Ambition Hurts
by CallMeJess
Summary: It hurts to think that all you have ever dreamed about is at the mercy of your parents. "why is it every time i want something bad enough to tell my parents, the lecture me on my morals?" It's hard to be an ambitious teenager with a temper and low IQ. AH


*I don't own twilight, but the feeling spread upon this page are mine, and they cut me*

I don't think I have ever cried so much. Not the hard sobbing wailing crying but the type of crying that is just solid, it never stops and after you have done it for a while your head starts to throb.

There has never been a time where I have wanted my mom so badly, to cry into her shoulder and let her know that I love her and that I miss her, that I just want to tell her all my problems and for her to make them go away.

_I think you need to find god. _She would say. The stupid Croatian cow would say.

Every time she opens her mouth I wish she would close it before she says something else that makes me want to pack all my shit back up and leave.

_You have issue, this is not just a Royce thing, there is deep, deep issues within you, and I want to heal you Rosalie, I need to heal you._

Jesus Mary fuck. She sounds do patriotic and noble, but really I want to take the closest candelabra stick to her head and watch her bleed out on the ground. I want to pretend that I would curl up beside her after her I had done it and sob with regret, but I know that as soon as I do it, it will a burden off my back. I know that if she were gone, my life would be that much better.

I want to feel like I need her, and that I care for my dad enough to want to be happy with the satanistic whore. But I know that he loves her and that he would die if she left in one form or another.

I sit here thinking that maybe life would be better if I lived with my mother.

I think maybe I would be getting better grades if I was with my step dad and her just 20 minutes down the road with the horses and the bob cats.

I think maybe my brother and I might have a better relationship if we lived together and weren't separated by walls of trees and mud.

But I cry myself to sleep every night thinking about how great life is supposed to be, but isn't because I can't get over _something._

I don't know what triggered it. I want to say that there was a defining point in my life where I just knew that I hated her, or thought I hated her.

But I can't, because there isn't.

I want to stand here and insult her and tell her that she's fat and should lose some fucking weight, but then I look at myself in the mirror and tell myself that very same thing instead.

I life my shirt up just above my midriff to see the gleaming diamantes that sits in the small metal bar weaving itself though the skin above my belly button and tell myself that it looks good there and that it wasn't just a vain attempt at motivating myself to lose weight so that I wasn't so ashamed of someone seeing it.

I think back to the day that my brother Jake told my parents about the offending alloy through my stomach, and about the lecture I got that I needed to respect my body and everything about it.

My face, I want to regret the extra earrings and laugh at myself and at how I have conformed to society's views on what a modern teenager should look like.

There are five options and one mandatory opinion.

You should either be a slutty whore bag that wears too much make-up and enjoys a manicure, can't read a book and gets shitty grades and get their belly button pieced and has lost their fucking virginity by the time they are 17.

Or you could be an emo punk teen, rocking out to alternative rock and metal music, banging your head and growing your fringe.

You can be a well liked jock get along with everyone and therefore because you are so damn good at sports you have a great fucking body.

Or you might be a dancer who can jump all over the stage and look amazingly graceful and well loved, but lusted over by all the hot guys because of all the aspired positions in bed.

Or you can be the crazy girl, class clown who makes stupid jokes and covers her insecurity with filth and laughter.

If anything I cover the last category.

I play the eccentric overly energetic girl with an over active mind and a need to be laughed at. But it all covers my insecurity at home.

I laugh along with my friends at lunch and make stupid and absolutely hilarious jokes that out everyone in hysterics but really that's all they keep me around for. Im the girl that makes them laugh, Im the life of the party.

What they don't see is the hurt behind it all.

They only see the mask and interpret that as the real thing. And I live with that mask in place, of contentment and happiness. And I don't care about the shit report card that was delivered just 4 weeks ago. They think that im going to work at the steady pace that I have not changing a thing, because I am content with my life amounting to shit.

But life I said. It's all a mask.

I changed my home life before I got the report card. I stopped paying attention to the cow so that I could finish my homework and study in the same night.

I stopped turning on the computer when I got bored with homework and getting distracted by twitter and Facebook. My friends blamed it on my supposedly broken router.

I started changing things because I don't want to amount to nothing. I want to leave this shit hole and move to a place where I can be rich without the famous. I want to be known and sought out by people.

I want to do things my way and to never have to worry about money again. To not have to ask my dad with a hesitant face and a regarded look every time I need $7 for a netball game and then act like I don't care when he says no.

I have ambitions, and every time my parents and guardians hear about them they freak say ing that I am trying to run away from them, because I can't handle any kind of stress and run away every time something gets hard. They keep telling me that I am going to become like Bella's fucking mother, who runs at the first sign of confrontation.

And you know what? I am running away, I'm running from the people that are too hard. I only have to survive through 2 more years and I am out of here and then they won't be able to stop me.

Only two more years of listening to that cow I call my best friend Bella about how she can't handle geekwards advances any longer.

Only two more years of watching Alice and Bella glare at each other from across the senior school quadrangle and pretend that I don't want them to kiss and make up so that I don't have to deal with their shit anymore.

Only two more years of this 80% or fail attendance rate.

Only two more years of getting home and having to cry into my pillow about how much I just want to shove Bella's pushy annoying head into a wall.

Only two more years of having to watch that fat fuck Billy jack himself off in the corner to porn on his iPhone.

Only two more years of having to watch Emma stand there and sext my ex boyfriend in every single class that she can get away with it.

Only two more years of having geekward come over to my house to tutor me in everything that Miss Bella cannot.

Only two more years and I am free.

**This story is close to my heart, it is letting me express myself in a way that I haven't been able to. The characters in this story have direct influences and resemble real people in my world. But they are good people and I would wish no harm upon them…sometimes.**

**PS this is also the first chapter to a new story that I am starting, check it out, it will have a different outcome to the one that this story wants, but all in all, the chapters are the same. **

**Hop over to my other account www . fanfiction . net / ~callmejess**

**It my only story on there and its going to be a downer… but please, if you want some insight into Rosalie please go and have a look**


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